


Going Forward

by Merlinsdeheune (sindhunathi), YourAverageBookworm



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Crossover, M/M, Magic Revealed, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-12
Updated: 2017-05-12
Packaged: 2018-10-29 21:03:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10862046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sindhunathi/pseuds/Merlinsdeheune, https://archiveofourown.org/users/YourAverageBookworm/pseuds/YourAverageBookworm
Summary: When things go horribly wrong, Merlin's magic opens up a rift to the Land of Untold Stories in an attempt to escape his fate, but he couldn't have predicted that the Land of Untold Stories is exactly where his story needs to go.





	Going Forward

**Author's Note:**

> Author's notes: Thanks so much to Merlinsdeheune for the amazing art and for the idea and for putting up with my rushed writing and general procrastination-- actually just thanks for everything :) I've never done one of these before, but it was a lot of fun!
> 
> Artist's notes: It has been amazing working with youraveragebookworm who brought my little prompt to life. I enjoyed creating the extra pieces as I watched the story unfold. Thank you! This is a style that I don't normally use, so I hope you like them! And many thanks to narlth and side-steppings for providing us with this opportunity!

The morning had started out innocently enough.

It had been two weeks after Mordred’s escape, and Merlin had still had the boy’s stare burned into his mind. It was honestly one of the most unnerving stares Merlin had ever seen.

That was the reason, Merlin had told himself, that he was tossing and turning at night, and zoning out when people talked to him, and screwing up Arthur’s chores even more than usual. It was Mordred’s general atmosphere of unsettling-ness and guilt, and not, as he’d thought of occasionally, the gut-churning fear that he had spared a boy’s life and sealed Arthur’s fate. That he had saved a stranger and sentenced his friend (and prince and the man he might love and a million other things that friend didn’t seem to be able to encompass) to death.

Definitely not that, he had thought as he’d absentmindedly dropped his spoon for the second time that morning. Luckily that time, only a little oatmeal had splashed outside his bowl, and Gaius was immediately ready to clean it up.

“You need a break, my boy,” he had said, his expression either one of disapproval or worry (it was unfortunately hard to tell). “You almost look as if you haven’t been sleeping.”

Merlin had stifled a yawn. “I swear I’m tired, I just— I can’t. I wake up and I know only a few hours have passed, but I can’t sleep and I can hear my heart pounding. Do you think a sleeping draught might help?”

The expression had intensified. “Why don’t you take the day off from serving Arthur? I need some herbs picked from the Eastern woods, and you could do that instead.”

Merlin had eyed the freshly stocked herb jars that lined the shelf. Gaius could be a truly terrible liar at times.

“Gaius, I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I need the work. It keeps me from thinking about… about other things.”

“And you have been working. Maybe it’s time you try taking a walk and giving yourself a break instead. Somehow, I think Arthur can manage to survive one day without you.”

That line should have honestly set off warning bells in Merlin’s head right there.

But instead he had sighed and told Arthur he had to go collect herbs for Gaius (maybe it was wishful thinking, but Arthur seemed almost concerned and didn’t even rant at Merlin for longer than a few minutes about it) and set off to do so. And then a couple hours into the walk Merlin had suddenly had terrible feeling, as if something was going horribly wrong. At first, he’d ignored it, thinking it part of the thoughts that had been nagging at him, but when the feeling had persisted, he’d tugged at it and tried to see if he could follow its origin.

And that was how he had ended up accidentally teleported into the Camelot throne room in broad daylight, though luckily it was in complete chaos, and none of the nobles had noticed his sudden appearance amidst their frantic attempts to push each other aside and escape the room.

(Hmm maybe lucky wasn’t the right word.)

He’d fought his way to the front of the crowd, and surprise surprise, Arthur and Uther were standing there, clearly immobilized, as a man in a dark cloak shouted something angry sounding at them—Merlin had caught the words “vengeance will be mine” and knew it was one of _those_ sorcerers. Uther had looked furious, and Arthur half amused, half angry, though as soon as he caught sight of Merlin that had changed to full anger.

He’d made some vigorous hand gestures that Merlin could only read as “make a V towards the door” but it was unfortunately this that caused the sorcerer to finally notice Merlin.

His eyes had bugged. “Emrys!”

Ah shit, Merlin had thought. _Not_ just one of those sorcerers then.

Here Arthur had finally given up the pretense. “Merlin you idiot, run!”

The sorcerer, clearly less vengeful and much more panicked, had started firing lightning bolts from his hands, but he had two hands, one of which was pointed threateningly at Arthur, and for a moment, Merlin’s heart had stopped.

He’d thrown up his hands, the words coming to the tip of his tongue instinctively, and before he’d known it, the sorcerer was out cold on the ground and the lightning bolts deflected into the wall (and into Uther’s throne no less). He’d lowered his hands and looked at them, trying to fathom what he’d just done—a public display of magic. This had been his worst nightmare for so long, it almost didn’t feel real. Maybe it wasn’t.

And then he’d looked up and met Uther’s eyes, and he’d never seen so much fear and anger in one person’s expression. But it hadn’t Uther that mattered—it never had been, and he slowly turned his head to meet Arthur’s gaze.

There had been shock there. And horror, and… disgust? They’d stayed frozen for a second, staring at each other, and then Arthur had broken the contact and looked away, his eyes shuttering towards the ground.

And Merlin had felt his heart break.

There had been a buzzing sound in the back of his ears that had slowly appeared when he’d deflected the lightning, and as Arthur turned away from him and Uther opened his mouth to shout for the guards it had grown louder and louder until finally, he’d clamped his hands over his ears and—

Everything had become quiet. He’d opened his eyes.

Nothing had been moving. Not Uther, his face comically frozen with his mouth midway open. Not the trees outside, which had been rippling in the wind. Not Arthur, his eyes still cast towards the ground.

Only there had been a large circular hole in the air in front of the throne that hadn’t been there before, its edges seemingly rippling with energy. Merlin had tried to look through it, but it was hazy—he could make out the edges of large towers and perhaps people. Things were moving there. He’d glanced back at the room, at how eerie and quiet it was.

He could unfreeze time, he had been certain of that. But he had screwed up— Uther would banish him. Arthur hated him and would never trust him again. And even if he did, he was doomed to be killed by Mordred. Perhaps this was better, in some sick way. At least then Arthur would never die.

Merlin had walked up to the portal and cautiously stuck a hand through. It had been like placing it into a pond, only he could feel cool air on the other side. He’d taken one last look at Arthur and then stepped through.

And that was how he’d ended up here, in the Land of Untold Stories.

*****

“So that was what,” Ailinn said as he finished his tale, “two weeks ago?”

“Three weeks ago!” Merlin said. If it was a touch defensive, no one could blame him.

“I’m impressed. You’ve certainly fit in quite well in a few weeks.”

It was true. The land had been a shock at first, what with the strange towers (which he’d been informed were called buildings) and flying things (dirigibles) and style (steampunk), but when you’d talked with dragons and seen snakes conjured out of thin air, you tended to be more receptive to new concepts. He’d quickly traded his Camelot clothes for a new pair of pants and a vest with an absurd number of buckles and straps. There’d been a woman selling scarves as well for facial protection, and he’d traded his neckerchief for a red one, as he couldn’t quite bring himself to give that up.

Luckily he’d somehow managed to obtain a job using his magic to fly the dirigibles, and he’d found Ailinn— a serious but grudgingly kind girl of around his age who’d taken a liking to him and was teaching him what she knew about the Land of Untold Stories. They’d become close surprisingly quickly over the past couple weeks.

(“You remind me of a friend of mine,” she’d said, but wouldn’t say any more. There wasn’t a lot of information that she had shared with him about her past so far. She didn’t seem to like talking about it.)

It was a strange place. Merlin had quickly found out that it was a safe haven for people from multiple universes to be able to come to escape from their stories for a little while. In the surge of emotion that had come from him being forced to reveal his magic, his magic had opened a portal to this land. He was having some trouble reconciling himself with the fact that his life was considered a “story”, but Ailinn had said something about everyone becoming stories in the end (she was a bookkeeper in her world), and that he wasn’t unique. Everyone had something they were avoiding or running from. Some people were only using the Land of Untold Stories as a temporary resting place to catch a breath, but some seemed intent on staying forever.

“So you’re never returning to Camelot?” Ailinn asked. She traced the words inked all over her arms absentmindedly. It was later in the evening and no one was using the dirigibles for transport, so they were sitting on the floor of one of the gondolas, talking.

Truth be told, he’d been here less than a month, and some part of him already missed Camelot, and Arthur especially. He knew they would be on terrible terms if Merlin returned, but little things kept reminding him of something they’d done or a conversation they’d had, and it was building up to a constant ache in his chest. But Merlin sighed. “I think things are better this way. It’s not as if it’s only that I revealed my magic—I already tampered with fate. I was supposed to kill Mordred and I didn’t.”

“I’m a little hazy on that part—who do you have to be the one who kills the boy? What’s so special about you?”

“I’m,” he blushed a little. “I’m the greatest sorcerer to ever walk the earth.”

Ailinn laughed. “Don’t worry—you stay here for long enough and you meet some pretty crazy and ridiculous people. I met a goth vampire witch the other week who said she was named Ebony.” And then she paused. “Wait, greatest sorcerer to ever walk the earth? How powerful are you? Can you… Can you stop time?”

Merlin shrugged. Stopping time was largely ineffective because you couldn’t actually affect anything frozen in the stream of time. All you could really do was stare at people’s awkward half-expressions while you caught your breath, which was fun but not very useful.

Still, he grabbed Ailinn’s hand and whispered a few words. There was the familiar tug of magic inside his gut, and he felt the world around them slow. When he opened his eyes, Ailinn had gone pale. She was staring at the candle they’d been using for light—the flame was immobile—as still as a painting. He let time go again, and it flickered back to life.

Ailinn let go of his hand with a shaky exhale.

“And when I first met you I thought you were just a telekinetic. Merlin… you have to be very careful, you hear me? There are many universes here and many forms of magic, but time and death manipulation are almost unheard of for any one person to be able to do. Don’t let anyone else know or they’ll be after you in a heartbeat.”

“What’s so special about time manipulation? It’s not as if I can do anything to anyone.” Merlin almost wanted to laugh, but Ailinn looked solemn.

“The Land of Untold Stories is sort of an… intersection of many universes. It’s an anomaly, and there’s a place at the very heart of it—Captain Nemo’s submarine—that’s said to hold an even bigger anomaly. Time and space merge there, and multiple universes exist at once. Somewhere in it, there’s apparently hidden an artifact that will let you control time. But in order to get to it, you have to be incredibly powerful or you’d get lost in the time stream.”

“And because I can pause time…”

“You’d most likely be able to do it.”

“So you’re saying I could… I could reverse what’s happened with Arthur?” Something like hope was growing in his chest. “I could return to Camelot and fix everything that’s happened? Ailinn, that’s amazing!” He hugged her, but she pushed him back.

“Tampering with time doesn’t usually turn out well—you could break your timeline or… or get lost in it or…”

“I’m willing to risk it.”

She gave him a strange look. She’d always been more on the more solemn side. At first, it had scared Merlin a little because she’d reminded him of Mordred—quieter, with an intense expression that gave the impression she was much colder and more dangerous than her appearance seemed. But there was something soft about Ailinn once you got to know her better. This look however, reminded him of that coldness.

“Merlin… that friend that you remind me of? I lied to him. I tricked him into helping me get revenge while I hid knowledge from him of the thing he loves most, and then I failed to get revenge and ended up almost killing the woman I love. I don’t know whether she’ll live or whether he’ll ever forgive me—time is frozen.” She sighed. “But what I’m trying to say is that everyone here has fucked up badly. I know you don’t want to hear it, but you of all people still have a chance to make things right. Meddling with time is dangerous, and sometimes, things are meant to be. Sometimes you can’t escape fate, and you have to own up to what you’ve done.”

Merlin knew that, he did, but this was different. It’s not like he was planning on changing everything—just maybe going back far enough to make sure Mordred never entered Camelot. He just needed a second chance.

He reached over and squeezed Ailinn’s hand. “Thank you,” he said. “I’ll be careful.”

She didn’t look convinced. “I know what I have to do, I’m just gathering the courage to do it. I think you’re the same. No one stays in the Land of Untold Stories forever.”

No, Merlin thought. As soon as he got the time machine, he could leave.

*****

**Camelot**

There was a loud cracking noise, and then Arthur stumbled a little, feeling almost strangely as if he’d been holding the pose he was in for ages. After he’d righted himself, he looked up, prepared to see at least his father’s disapproving glare, or the guards moving to arrest Merlin, or the nobles still fleeing from the room.

But, to his horror (and a touch of relief), everyone and everything was eerily frozen still. Uther wasn’t yelling for the guards, Morgana and Gwen weren’t yelling at Uther, and Merlin… Merlin was gone, and in his place was a giant portal—crackling with energy and light.

Arthur rolled his eyes. Honestly, two guesses and the second didn’t count.

He sighed. Merlin may have magic, but he was clearly still an idiot with magic, and while Arthur wasn’t ready to forgive him any time soon, he wasn’t about to let him get away that easily. He walked towards the portal.

*****

 

The journey to Captain Nemo’s submarine was frankly underwhelming for the first couple of days. Merlin had convinced his boss—someone named Gretel–  to let him take a dirigible for the first leg of the journey, and so he’d managed to successfully avoid contact with anyone. And he’d touched down in a rural enough section of the land that there was little trouble. Some unhappy farmers kept gave him strange looks, and he’d had the misfortune of sitting next to a landlord’s daughter, who ranted at him for a good couple hours about her highwayman, for dinner. So it wasn’t until he set upon the main road that he encountered his first problems.

“Hello good sir,” said the giant wolf stretching lazily across the road. “Where might you be going today?”

Merlin blinked. He was almost positive he hadn’t seen or heard the wolf come here.

“I’m exploring the land. Seeing what I can of it.”

“Interesting.” The wolf examined its claws. “This happens to be the main road to the heart of the Land of Untold Stories—Nemo’s submarine—but you wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”

Merlin’s stomach dropped, but he’d had a lot of practice lying over the past couple of years. “The heart of the land? That’s lucky—that sounds like a perfect place for me to go. Who’s Nemo?”

The wolf blinked slowly and then smiled, and Merlin fought a shudder. “I’ll let you in on a secret,” it said. “As someone who’s tried to make it to the submarine, there are many obstacles blocking you, and many tales that will try to get in your way or claim it for themselves. There are flowers in this forest that will make you invisible to them, and they’re just a little ways off of the path.”

“I honestly don’t know what you’re talking about, err… sir,” Merlin said, even as the words “a little ways off of the path” seemed to swim around in his head. There was something oddly familiar about this.

The wolf cocked its head to the side. “Suit yourself, I was just trying to help.” And then he slunk off towards the side of the road.

Merlin blinked. That was… strange, to say the least. And more than a little unsettling. Still, if what the wolf had said was at all right… He waited until he’d walked a ways past where he’d met the wolf, and then he waved his hand and mumbled a few words. From the depths of the forest, a bouquet of flowers flew out and into his outstretched palm. A quick scan revealed that there was nothing particularly magical about them, but nothing particularly malicious, so he kept them and kept walking.

Soon the end of the country was in sight, and the path was leveling out into something more resembling a road. He let out a sigh of relief and took a step towards it, but there was a slight rustling sound behind him, and he whipped around.

There was the wolf again, although this time, its eyes were narrowed and its teeth were bared.

“You thought you could outwit me, did you?”

“Err,” Merlin said. “No?”

“I don’t know how you picked the flowers without straying from the path, but it doesn’t matter. I found you anyway, and you’ll still make a fine lunch.” It grinned, and the sun gleamed across its teeth. It’s rather big teeth.

And that finally made Merlin remember. “You’re the wolf from Little Red Cap!”

The grin turned into a look of anger. “Not here, I’m not,” it said, and then it pounced.

Merlin dodged to the side just in time to watch it descend on the spot he’d just been standing, claws out and tearing into the ground. He shuddered, but it was up again in a flash, and going for his throat again. He managed a quick defensive spell, and this time when the wolf lunged, it bounced off of the air in front of him as though it were glass. Another spell, and it was pinned to the ground.

“Is there anything else you know about Nemo’s submarine?” Merlin said.

The wolf growled and gnashed its teeth. “Why don’t you come a little closer and I’ll tell you?”

Merlin sighed and snapped his fingers, and it was dead. The wolf had most likely been using knowledge as bait to lure and kill passersby. There wasn’t much else he could do.

He turned back towards the end of the road, but the bushes rustled again, and in a second, magic was back at his fingertips.

“Show yourself!”

There were a couple seconds of silence, and then from out behind the tree on the left emerged a familiar figure, armor clad and sword drawn.

“Arthur!” A rush of relief and happiness spread through Merlin. “I— what are you doing here? Is it really you?” He took a step forward—to hug him or pinch him just see if it was real, if he was dreaming—but Arthur raised his sword slightly in a defensive gesture, all of Merlin’s happiness was gone in a second.

Right. It wasn’t as if they’d parted on the best of terms. It’d been weeks for Merlin, but it had most likely only been a day at most for Arthur.

“Camelot’s frozen in time,” Arthur said, still holding himself with a defensiveness that made Merlin’s chest ache. “I need you to unfreeze it.”

“But why are you here? You should be frozen with it. How did you even know where to find me?”

The sword lowered a little, and for a second, Arthur looked lost. “I… I don’t know. I saw the portal and came through, and then there was this tugging in my chest that I followed…”  But then he shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. Come back to Camelot with me and unfreeze time, and I… I swear I will let you escape. As a thank you for your service so far.”

Merlin’s heart tugged painfully in his chest. He really had missed Arthur—and now seeing him again but cold and angry and distant was like someone was slowly stabbing him. But Arthur didn’t seem as if he hated Merlin. He seemed more hesitant than anything else. In fact the reason he’d had his sword out…

“Arthur, were you going to help me if it looked like I was in trouble?”

Arthur turned slightly red. “No! I mean, yes, just—shut up! I wasn’t going to let you be torn apart by a wolf. If anyone should kill you at this point, it should be me.”

Merlin took a deep breath and made a choice. “Arthur, I’m trying to turn back time,” he blurted. “I’m trying to fix everything. If I turn back time to before you saw me use magic, we could go back to the way things were.”

That really seemed to make Arthur pause. “Back to the way things were?”

“I can’t undo my magic—I was born with it, and I swear I only use it to protect you—but I can ensure that it never gets found out and that you… you won’t ever have to know about it.”

More silence. Then, “How do I know you’re telling the truth?”

“Come with me. Help me find the time machine, and then you can see for yourself.”

Arthur still looked hesitant, but maybe it was just Merlin’s imagination but there was a touch of relief there as well. “Fine. But don’t expect me to talk to you.”

*****

At first, true to his word, Arthur didn’t speak to him when he could avoid it. As they traveled, Merlin caught him up on everything that had happened and where he was, but those were the only exchanges they had. Arthur was still cold and sullen, thought it was slightly easier for Merlin to bear knowing that Arthur still, somewhere deep down, cared for him. That was likely all he could ask for.

The land itself didn’t get any less strange. They passed a trio of animals calling themselves musicians but singing rather terribly, a couple of sisters sitting together though one had three eyes, a stork murmuring something about forgetting a word, and more. Luckily most were harmless, but they encountered a rather angry bear and a couple malicious people every now and then.  

The more Merlin and Arthur fought together, the easier it became. It was almost routine. Merlin would run offense, and Arthur would protect him, attacking anything that Merlin missed or that came too close.

Merlin didn’t want to read too much into it, but it felt… nice. They worked well together, almost merged together well.

“Merlin!” Arthur snapped.  “Flying monkey on your right!”

Merlin instinctively ducked his head and snapped an arm out to cast a spell. There was a loud screech, and out of the corner of his eye, he saw something close to him fall to the ground heavily, feathers flying.

As soon the monkeys were all unconscious, Arthur was at his side. “You idiot!” He said, taking off his helmet, “You favor your right side when you’re fighting so you do a terrible job of checking it. You need to be more careful.”

“Yes mother,” Merlin said, his brain on automatic. As soon as he realized what he’d said though, he froze.

But Arthur went along with it. “Someone needs to look out for people when they’re missing half their brain—you’re lucky I’m charitable enough to do it.” Merlin grinned, and for a second, they stood there smiling at each other. Then Arthur seemed to catch himself and scowl. “I mean— Just—we have to keep moving, come on.” He walked determinedly ahead.

“Yessir,” Merlin said, and trotted off after him.

And slowly, things were starting to get easier between them as well. Arthur stopped telling Merlin to shut up whenever Merlin tried to make conversation, and actually had to stop himself from laughing at a couple of Merlin’s observations. He’d started insulting Merlin occasionally, which, after the weeks away from Camelot and much thought, Merlin had learned was Arthur’s emotionally stunted way of expressing endearment, and he’d actually kind of missed it.

They were getting close to Nemo’s submarine—Merlin could tell because the number of other tales they were encountering were decreasing— when they were attacked by the green clad men.

It was a strange sight at first. They were walking through another forest, Merlin chattering about the differing qualities of apple trees, when a net dropped over the two of them out of nowhere, and suddenly from out of the bushes burst several men, all tall, dressed in completely green, and carrying various bows and arrows and staffs. There was also what appeared to be a… monk?

“Halt!” The one with the staff said. “You are journeying to Nemo’s submarine.”

Merlin blinked, uncertain whether they were friendly or harmful. Either way, at this point in the journey, there was no point in lying about it. “Yes?”

But they were all clearly talking to and focused on Arthur, having identified him as the person of greater authority with his sword and armor. They weren’t wrong, but it miffed Merlin a little.

“We demand that you take us to the time machine, and in return, we will let you go.”

Arthur hmmed. “What makes you think that we can get you there?”

“We know you have magic because that’s the only way the two of you alone could have made it this far, and we have ways to deal with that.”

“What? How?” The sudden interest in Arthur’s voice made Merlin’s blood run cold.

“The net is laced with cold iron. Blocks all magic. Try something, I dare you.”

Arthur inclined his head towards Merlin slightly, and Merlin reached for his magic.

It wasn’t there.

Arthur must have felt him stiffen, because he spoke up again. “Fine, we’ll help you so long as no harm comes to either of us.”

The green men were clearly great fighters, but despite the idea about the cold iron, they were idiots. The ropes weren’t made of pure iron, so as soon as they got close, Arthur drew his sword and sliced through them. Merlin and Arthur soon took out the men and were left in a clearing of full of unconscious green men, staring at the net. There was something uneasy in Merlin’s stomach.

“Can you still do magic on it?” Arthur asked, at the same time as Merlin said, “Arthur, I understand if you—”

“What?” Merlin said.

“Does your magic still work on the iron if you’re not in contact with it?”

“I… I think so.”

“Then burn it. Burn it, and bury the ashes when you’re done.”

After that, they continued on, quiet for a while. But that night as they were sitting around their camp, Merlin hesitantly edged closer to Arthur and said, “Thank you for earlier. I know you didn’t have to.”

The reply was instantaneous. “Shut up _Mer_ lin. You don’t have to be an idiot and yet somehow you still manage to be.” He sighed. He was clearly struggling with something, so Merlin waited for a few seconds in silence before, “Merlin… you should know that I would never do that to you. I… Even after finding out you lied, I couldn’t even bring myself to hate you. I’m not sure I ever could.”

His tone was a mixture of pained that Merlin recognized. It was the same kind of ache that had been in his chest ever since he’d known he’d liked Arthur more than he realized, that Arthur was a prat and would never look twice his way and more importantly, destined for something unknown but terrible, but that apparently Merlin was an idiot and loved him anyway.

“Arthur, I—”

“I’m going to get some sleep Merlin. You should too.”

But after Arthur blew out the campfire and laid down for the night, Merlin lay down besides him and Arthur didn’t say a word. When they fell asleep, Merlin was half resting on Arthur’s chest.

*****

 

They made it to Nemo’s submarine the next day. The entrance was, thankfully, on land, with a tunnel that seemed to lead to the door to the large metal ship.

“So this is it, right? This is where the time machine is?”

Merlin nodded. “We just have to make it through this, and then we’re done.”

“Alright.” Arthur clapped his hand on Merlin’s shoulder. “Let’s finish this then.” If his hand lingered on longer than necessary, neither of them commented on it.

Merlin cast a quick protective spell over the two of them, a feeling of anxiety fluttering in his stomach. Ailinn had said that it was a dimensional rift, but he didn’t know what exactly that would entail.  With a deep breath, he took a step forward.

At first nothing seemed out of the ordinary, but the further they walked, the stranger Merlin felt. It was as if he were moving through honey, like the air was getting thicker. Arthur seemed to notice it too.

“Should I be feeling so… syrupy?”

Merlin shrugged. “All we can do is keep moving.” They walked a little further, and something strange tugged at his gut—a sudden feeling to be anywhere but here—and he grabbed Arthur’s hand. After a second, it passed, and Merlin looked up to see Arthur looking at him, concern evident on his face. “I’ll be fine,” he said. It wasn’t pain exactly, just the feeling that something was wrong. He felt as if he shouldn’t be here, but then he shouldn’t be anywhere. There was almost something tugging at him and Arthur, but he could feel the magic under his skin, light and warm, keeping them here. He went to let go of Arthur’s hand, but Arthur squeezed his tighter.

The feeling kept increasing until they finally made it to the door. It swung open, and then then the air seemed to shatter.

It was like they were looking at splintered glass, and in every shard was another world, or at least, a fragment of one. Every time Merlin touched one or got too close, he got… visions. It was disorienting.

He saw Uther as a strict looking man in a strange blue outfit with the word “Police” on it and then he blinked and it was gone. Morgana and Gwen kissing in a crowded room with a loud, screeching form of music blasting in the background. His mother leaning over a baby in a strange metal ship, murmuring something about another galaxy. He saw so many of him and Arthur. Arthur only dressed in a strange almost steampunk style and leaning down to kiss his hand. Arthur ruling as a king, only his crown was strange and poofy, unlike anything he’d seen before. Arthur falling in a battle field of some sort, having crawled out of a ditch to rescue a man.

But more painful visions were the ones from Camelot—from their universe. He could see Morgana falling into madness and Arthur being killed by Mordred. There was a universe where he was on the pyre, and in one Arthur saved him, but in another he was the one lighting the flame. He saw a perfect world where he, Morgana, and Gwen stood by Arthur’s side as the flag of Camelot flew over Albion, and another where no flag flew at all, and Camelot was in ruins. There was a world in which he brought Camelot to the ground himself, and another where it was Morgana and another where it was Mordred and another where it was Gwen and Lance… There were so many different universes with so many different outcomes—every shade of every decision having a different, unpredictable effect. Merlin instinctively reached towards one of the better ones. Maybe if he could just walk into it…

But then Arthur squeezed his hand, and he was brought back to himself. It was warm and grounding amid the chaos that was… whatever this was.

“We have to keep moving,” Arthur said.

“Arthur are you… are you seeing all of this? It’s incredible.”

Arthur just shook his head. “We have to keep moving.”

And so they did, though it felt like ages. Every step brought them into contact with new worlds, new lifetimes that they could have (would have?). There were moments when either he or Arthur seemed to want to get a closer look at one, maybe go through, but they stopped each other and kept walking.

Eventually, the images began to decrease and then fade all together, and all they could see of the room were the dull grey walls, and a pedestal on which an hour glass was sitting, and a door at the other end roughly 10 feet away from them. They’d made it through.

It was all Merlin could do to stay standing. He felt exhilarated and confused and horrified, and he turned to Arthur and Arthur just looked… sad.

“Merlin, I…” He squeezed Merlin’s hand again, and Merlin thought of all the universes in which he’d died, in which Uther had accused him of sorcery and he’d burned on the pyre. For a split second, he was irrationally terrified, and then he remembered that this was his Arthur, and his Arthur was not Uther. “We’re never going to avoid it, are we? You can’t keep your magic hidden forever, and I’ll find out again or my father will find out again.”

“Arthur, no. I mean, we can try.”

“No, you shouldn’t have to keep it hidden. I know what you can do now, both good and bad, but more importantly, I know what _you_ will do, and none of it’s bad.” He paused, and Merlin stayed silent, unsure. “You don’t need the time machine. We’ll… we’ll be fine without it. Trust me.”

Ailinn was right in the end. Meddling with time was pointless, there were so many different paths they could take at any given moment, and none of them were predictable. Who knows what would happen, or what they could mess up by undoing what had been done? It was just as dangerous as anything else, and wouldn’t fix anything in the end.

He hesitated a second more, and then waved his hand. The hour glass disintegrated.

The door at the end of the room flew open, and the frame was limned in light, and through it, Merlin could see Camelot as he’d left it—everyone frozen in place, Uther looking angry, the guards ready to spring into action.

Arthur held out his hand. “Ready?”

Merlin took it. “Ready.”

And together they stepped through the portal back into Camelot, as everyone slowly unfroze.

Uther was the first. “Arthur… what—?” He said, blinking rapidly, clearly disoriented.

“Father,” said Arthur, hand in Merlin’s, “there’s something we need to discuss with you.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Original prompt submitted for claiming.
> 
> (Artist's note: I was short on time when I created the prompt, as a result the art for the fic went in an entirely different direction. Deep gratitude to Youraveragebookworm for putting up with my inconsistencies. )


End file.
